If I Stay
by Cardinal Rose
Summary: When Assumpta died, Peter had nothing left. His faith shaken, his vocation over. He left Ballykissangel and was never mentioned again. What if he didn't? What if he realised what he still had; his friends, his faith, his love of the town. Peter never left Ballykissangel, and things will never be the same. After all, God never gives you more than you can endure.


**Authors Note:**

**Hello! I don't know if anyone still reads Ballykissangel fic, but I was rewatching Among Friends and I knew I had to try and fix the way they left Peter.**

**I actually quite like Father Aidan, so he'll have his place in this.**

**This fic is to answer my own wondering anabo what would have happened if Peter had stayed.**

**Please enjoy.**

**Edit: I am apparently an idiot who can't remember characters' names. Fixed now.**

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Chapter 1

It was strange, how the slightest mistake could turn a world upside down. An accident, they all said. Faulty wiring. If she hadn't been so stubborn, so independent. But then again, if she hadn't, she wouldn't have been Assumpta. The only one in all of the world. The only one for him in all of the world. Those first few weeks, he went through his life on autopilot, railing at a God that seemed no longer to care. All those missed chances, all those times he could have done what he hadn't had the courage to do until it was too late. He didn't understand. Why give him his vocation and then make him fall in love? Why give him a chance at a life with Assumpta and cruelly take it away? Was it because he was a priest and she a married woman? Was their sin truly that great? Ironically, Father Mac had been more supportive and understanding than he'd ever been, since the accident, accepting his shaken faith, personally writing to bishops and the Pope, fast tracking the dissolution of his orders. And now here he was, still in Ballykissangel, the only place that still felt like home. The village, his friends, they'd rallied around, kept him together, saved him from himself more than once. Proved to him that he might have been dealt a date too hard to bear, but he hadnt been abandoned by God or his friends - not completely. He owed them everything; he owed them too much to ever abandon them.

After the funeral, his last official duty as a Priest, Peter had packed up his effects from his house, and moved into the smallest bedroom at Fitzgerald's. When the lawyer had told him Assumpta had left him her pub in her will, Peter had walked out of the reading in shock, unable to hear any more. Now, though, a little over six months later, he was astounded at the amount of support that the village had given him. Niamh still came in whenever she could, bringing baby Kieran with her more often than not. Things had settled, despite the gaping hole in their lives. His days were the same as they ever would be; get up, cook enough to get by, open up the pub, greet the same sad-but-getting-happier faces of his friends, occasionally cuddle baby Kieran (the bright spot of his existence), chat with Siobhan and try to mediate between her and Brendan (even the coming baby unable to smooth things between them completely), ignore Brian (still offended that Peter wouldn't sell him the pub), and go to church every Sunday. The new priest, Father Aidan, was amazingly competent - no inappropriate feelings for members of the parish, no shaken faith in his vocation. In truth, he and Peter got along very well - although not even Kathleen Hendley would dare bring up the exact circumstances of his new occupation. All Aidan knew was that Peter had left the clergy for his own reasons, and that it was best not to pry. Aidan's sister, the fierce and beautiful Orla, helped herself to a job at the pub, brightening the gloomy atmosphere Fitzgerald's fell into whenever Peter and Niamh particularly missed the former landlady. And so, Ballykissangel continued.

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Peter looked up from his book (he wasn't open yet, and his insomnia had reared its head, giving him plenty of time last night to prepare for the day), and frowned at the unusual sight before him. The pub's door had just opened and shut so quickly, he'd barely processed the former before the latter happened. Standing in front of the bar, halfway out of his Garda uniform, was Ambrose. Over the last six months, this wasn't as rare an occurrence as it would have been under Assumpta's tenure, but Ambrose usually had the dignity of appearing fully dressed for his morning visits. "Morning Ambrose" he greeted, smiling a little at his friend. Nothing really surprised him about this town anymore. Nothing surprised him about life anymore. "Busy morning?"

"Niamh's on the warpath!" Ambrose announced, glancing behind as if afraid his wife had followed him. Then he blinked and smiled tightly. "Good morning, Peter." Peter hid a frown behind his coffee mug, something about the situation not sitting right with him.

"Is everything alright? With Niamh, Kieran?"

"Kieran's grand" Ambrose quickly reassured him, smiling in the proud manner common to new fathers. The expression faltered as Peter repeated his query after Niamh. "Niamh's angry" Ambrose admitted eventually. "She kept in touch with some of Assumpta's old friends, and-" Peter had gotten better at not flinching every time someone made a casual mention of Assumpta, but this time he couldn't conceal his reaction. Fortunately, his lapse went unnoticed, his door slamming open again.

"Men are _bastards!"_

"Taken as read" Peter agreed wryly, smiling again at his new visitor. Niamh stood not far from Ambrose, an expression of incandescent fury on her face. Kieran burbled happily in her arms, apparently oblivious to his mother's anger. Niamh blinked at the sight of him, expression turning from fury to castigation. "Oh, sorry Father." Peter shook his head fondly, Niamh was one of the few people in town to habitually still refer to him by his former title.

"How many times, Niamh? I'm not a priest any more." Niamh made a sound as if telling him that was the least important information he could ever impart. Then she scowled again.

"In that case, I stand by my words: men are bastards."

"And as I said, Niamh" Peter smiled, trying for levity. "Taken as read. But why?" Niamh glanced at him, as if regretting her decision to come. A familiar sadness replaced the anger in her eyes. Peter knew the expression; Niamh was the bearer of bad news.

"Leo's coming here, and he's bringing his new wife."

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**Thank you for reading!**


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